


Tossing and Turning

by QueenNeehola



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Domestic, M/M, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2014-06-29
Packaged: 2018-02-06 17:14:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1865898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenNeehola/pseuds/QueenNeehola
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kuroko Tetsuya, for all his lack of presence and the chilling ease with which he could sneak up behind people and scare the dick off them, was a restless sleeper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tossing and Turning

Kuroko Tetsuya, for all his lack of presence and the chilling ease with which he could sneak up behind people and _scare the dick off them_ , was a restless sleeper.

 

Aomine had known this for years – from the times they’d had Teikou strategy meetings-turned-sleepovers and Kuroko had woken up five feet across the floor from where he’d fallen asleep; to the training camps where he was absolutely _not_ allowed to have the top bunk since that one incident where he’d ended up with a concussion.

(And it was obvious, anyway, since that horrific bed-hair had to come from _somewhere_.)

 

But Aomine didn’t experience the full force of Kuroko’s tossing and turning until several years later, when tasting vanilla shake straight from Kuroko’s mouth became a common occurrence and he didn’t blush like a flustered schoolgirl _quite_ as often on the special occasions _Aomine-kun_ became just _Daiki_.

 

On frozen, winter mornings, when the cold nipped at Aomine’s toes and Jack Frost drew intricate patterns on the window panes, Aomine would wake to icy feet pressed against his bare legs and see a small, shivering lump curled into his side, its pale blue head tucked under his armpit.

(Naturally, the covers had always been claimed entirely by Kuroko during the night, and he’d be wrapped in them like a caterpillar in its cocoon, leaving Aomine chilled to the bone and wishing he’d worn more to bed than boxers.)

 

On sticky, summer mornings, when the sun rose too early to be considered anything but _rude_ and humidity hung in the airless atmosphere, he would be dragged from slumber, groggy and sweating, to a feeling of heavy _heat_ pressing down on his skin.

 It would be almost amusing if it wasn’t annoying, the way Kuroko always somehow ended up sideways with his head lolling off the bed and his legs thrown over Aomine’s stomach, and the duvet shoved every which way as long as it wasn’t _touching him_ (of course, it usually ended up all over Aomine instead, hence the stifling warmth).

What was _always_ amusing was the way Kuroko pretended to sulk after Aomine pushed him off the bed.

 

And on mornings, like this one, where mid-morning sunlight fell across Aomine’s face to let him know, as he awoke with a start, that he’d slept in late, he’d always, _always_ wake up to Kuroko clinging to him like some sort of tiny blue koala.

“Tetsu.  _Tetsu_!”  Damn, Kuroko had some strength in his small grip, that was for sure.  The clock told Aomine he’d missed his first seminar of the day for the third week in a row, and he winced as he pictured his lecturer’s face.  “Tetsu, shit, wake _up_!”

“No,” came a sleepy mumble.  So the little bastard had been awake the whole time!

“I’m not kiddin’ around, I’m fuckin’ _late_!”

“You were late last week.  And the week before.  Be late again.”

“Only ’cause you did… _this_ the last two weeks as well!”

“I don’t have classes this morning.  Sleep in with me.”  Kuroko’s legs snaked around and between Aomine’s, further cutting off his escape route.  Kuroko raised his head, and as his sleepy, lidded eyes looked into Aomine’s face, not quite managing to focus, his bedhead as ridiculous as always, Daiki felt his objections die in his throat.

Giving a groan of defeat, he flopped down next to Tetsuya again, pulling his phone out from under his pillow to send one of his classmates a (by now, weekly) _let me copy your seminar notes later_ text.

“If I fail this class I am dumping you,” Aomine complained, stretching his arm out across the bed.

“You won’t,” Kuroko replied, rolling into it.

“Which one, fail or dump you?”

“Both.”


End file.
